


Trust in Me

by montruc



Category: Casualty (TV)
Genre: First Time, Kissing, M/M, PWP, Rimming, a whole lot of sin, sin basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 20:38:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7522285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montruc/pseuds/montruc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the absence of Lofty and Zoe, Dylan and Max turn to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust in Me

“I’ve never-“ Max whispers.

 

“Trust me,” Dylan murmurs against his neck, arms loosely draped atop Max’s hips. Max feels himself melting forwards into Dylan’s touch, accepting the heat radiating from him, feeling the weight of his their chests pushed together, his back pressed firmly against his own bedroom wall.

 

Dylan leans forward slowly, pressing his lips to Max’s, testing. He starts gently, teasing Max’s bottom lip as the younger man responds tentatively, pressing forward only slightly. Dylan pulls away briefly to glimpse at Max’s expression, his eyes half-lidded. After a moment, Max leans in this time, kissing him more firmly and taking control. He gasps quietly when one of Dylan’s hands grabs at his backside, pushing his hips forward hotly, before Dylan’s tongue is in his mouth, aptly exploring every inch of the surface. 

 

They spend what seems like a lifetime pressed against each other, tongues battling and dancing. Max moans breathily as Dylan’s skilled hands work blindly at the button on his jeans before he snakes a hand under the waistband and onto his hip, just feeling the warmth beneath his palm.

 

“Lie down,” Dylan says against Max’s lips, tugging him forward and towards the bed. Max does as he’s told, feeling exposed as he spreads himself atop his duvet, his unbuttoned jeans revealing some of the pale skin beneath.

 

Dylan kneels next to him, the bed springs creaking quietly beneath him before he dips down to kiss Max again. Max closes his eyes and lets himself get lost in the moment, his mouth working in perfect tandem with Dylan’s, the feel of rough stubble scraping against his cheek.

 

Dylan sits up to unbutton and pull off his shirt before he pulls Max’s t-shirt over his head. The skin of Max’s chest is hot and flushed, and Dylan trails a hand across the expanse.

 

“Are you okay?” Dylan asks softly, meeting his eyes. 

 

“More than,” Max replies in equal tone, stretching his arms above his head and placing both his hands beneath his head. Dylan nods affirmingly before resuming, standing up to drop his trousers to the floor, long fingers swiftly undoing the two buttons at his waist. Max sits up to admire the sight of Dylan in his underwear, his pale thighs in the dim light from the streetlamp outside, his chest shadowed but strong.

 

Dylan climbs back onto the bed, on his knees beside Max. He begins a trail of kisses from Max’s collarbone downwards, across his chest, teeth briefly dancing across a nipple before continuing on. Max leans his head back and sighs, revelling in the feel of Dylan’s wet tongue against him. When he reaches the waistband of Max’s jeans, Dylan slides down the bed and positions himself between Max’s parted legs.

 

“I’m a virgin,” Max blurts suddenly, pushing himself into a half-sit. His expression is vulnerable and slightly embarrassed.

 

“Zoe..?” Dylan asks, raising his eyebrows.

 

“Is a woman,” Max says slowly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

 

“Ah,” Dylan’s expression softens, “so what you mean is you’ve never had sex with a man.”

 

Max nods.

 

“Do you want to?” Dylan asks.

 

“Yeah,” Max laughs quietly at the absurdity of the question, with Dylan lying almost naked between his legs.

 

Dylan nods before sitting up to undo the zip on Max’s jeans, pulling them off and discarding them somewhere on the floor. He’s glad to see that Max’s boxers are tented, the stretchy fabric being pushed upwards.

 

“Let me know if you need me to slow down,” Dylan says quietly. Before Max has the chance to say anything in reply, Dylan begins mouthing at the fabric, trailing his teeth and his tongue and his lips across the covered flesh. Max moans quietly and rocks upwards involuntarily, hushed curses leaving his lips. 

 

Dylan brings his hands to Max’s waistband, pulling down the elastic and exposing Max’s hard-on. Without hesitation, he ducks his head down, his mouth sheathing the straining skin.

 

“Oh, fuck! Dylan,” Max’s voice is strangled and raw, “ _fuck._ ”

 

Dylan slides aptly up and down, licking stripes, his experienced tongue swirling patterns on the flesh. He presses Max’s hips down with his forearm when the younger can’t stop himself rising off the bed impatiently. 

 

“You’re good at this,” Max manages to comment.

 

“I’ve had practice,” Dylan replies, his warm breath dancing across Max’s hip.

 

“Lofty was a lucky man,” Max smirks.

 

Dylan finds he doesn’t have anything to say to that. He pushes himself up onto one elbow and sinks back down onto Max, managing to chuckle at the quiet obscenities that leave Max’s lips. He sucks for a few more moments before pulling off with a wet pop, pushing Max’s hips upwards so he has more access, and Dylan suddenly finds himself face to face with the pale strip of white skin between Max’s balls and backside.

 

“Are you going to want to top or bottom?” Dylan questions. 

 

“Bottom,” Max says after a moment’s deliberation. “I don’t think I’d know what I was doing on top.”

 

Dylan agrees with the choice, remembering the first time he’d topped as being a clumsy disaster.

 

“Have you heard of rimming?” Dylan asks sincerely, pushing himself onto his knees so he can see Max’s face.

 

“I don’t think so, no,” Max answers.

 

“This might feel a little bit strange,” Dylan warns as he settles back down onto his stomach, “but try to let yourself enjoy it.”

 

Before Max has the chance to query what’s going on, Dylan stripes a firm lick across Max’s entrance, causing the porter to gasp and writhe against the sheets. Dylan blindly reaches for a pillow and slips it under Max’s hips, elevating him from the bed. He plants a few wet kisses against the puckered flesh, drinking up Max’s soft moans and whimpers. He points his tongue and presses it inside, swirling and turning.

 

“Fuck, Dylan,” Max pants, pushing his hips as far as he can onto Dylan’s tongue, “oh God.”

 

Dylan continues the stimulation and reaches his hand up to rest on Max’s stomach, keeping him pressed downwards as he tries to writhe upwards and sideways and in every other direction. He moves expertly, causing Max to moan and curse.

 

“Do you have any lube?” Dylan asks, sitting up, lips shining. 

 

“In the draw,” Max gestures vaguely in the direction of his bedside table. “Probably best go for a new bottle.”

 

Dylan slips off the bed and opens the drawer, revealing what can only be considered an excessive array of bottles and tubes of lubrication. He picks one that still has the seal around the top and uses his teeth to pull the plastic off, uncapping it quickly.

 

“Have you ever-“ Dylan starts.

 

“No,” Max says firmly, eyeing the black bottle. “Never.”

 

“Nothing at all?” Dylan questions.

 

“Literally nothing, so…” Max trails off, raising an eyebrow.

 

“I’ll be gentle,” Dylan promises truthfully, squeezing a liberal amount of lube onto his right middle and forefingers. 

 

Dylan streaks a blob across Max’s entrance, laughing when Max recoils.

 

“Bit cold!” Max yelps.

 

“It’ll warm, give it a minute,” Dylan reassures, rubbing it into the warm skin.

 

Carefully, slowly, he eases two fingers into Max, pressing enough for him to slip past the ring of muscle. Max lets out an obscene moan, grinding downwards.

 

Dylan, encouraged, works the fingers forwards and backwards, twisting them inside. Max continues to buck and writhe, his fingers twisted in the bedsheets above him.

 

“More,” Max begs, lifting his head. “ _Please_.”

 

Dylan obliges, working a third finger in and moaning himself when Max clenches around his hand and lets out a stream of moans and curses. He pumps the three fingers a few times, working Max open, making sure he’s going to be properly prepared for his first time. He brings a hand to his own erection, pumping, swiping at the precum that’s gathered there.

 

“I think you might be ready,” Dylan says, bringing his fingers out and wiping them on the bedsheet, to Max’s annoyance. He quickly pulls off his underwear and spreads a healthy load of lube across himself before he shuffles forwards, lining up his hips with Max’s.

 

“Let me know if you need me to slow down or stop,” he says warningly, before gently easing forwards. Dylan lets out his own breathy moan as he sinks forwards, moving deeper and deeper until he’s pressed flush against Max’s skin.

 

“How do you feel?” Dylan asks quietly, looking down at Max lying face upwards.

 

“Fuck,” Max breathes, looking up with such an unguarded expression that Dylan just wants to kiss it right off him. “ _Fuck._ ”

 

“Eloquent as ever,” Dylan says with a roll of his eyes.

 

“Only you would – _oh_ \- only you manage to be sarcastic during sex.”

 

Ignoring that comment, Dylan testingly moves backwards a little, pulling out slightly. Max’s expression briefly contorts into one of discomfort before it melts into one of pleasure, his mouth hanging open. His eyes flutter closed briefly before he opens them again, his unfocused gaze landing on Dylan’s bare chest. 

 

Slowly, Dylan’s thrusts quicken, the bed springs squeaking rhythmically as he finds his rhythm. Max clenches around him with every movement, moaning breathily as the pain subsides and gives way to pleasure.

 

Dylan catches one of Max’s legs and hooks it around his hip, moving forward to be closer to him while his hips rock forward and backwards with more force. Max reaches up and places a hand behind Dylan’s neck to pull him down. He kisses Dylan fervently, gasps and moans getting lost between them; Max cries out as Dylan’s damp skin slides over his hard-on. 

 

Dylan strikes the sensitive spot inside Max that sends him wrenching free of the kiss, a frantic “fuck!” leaving his mouth. Dylan angles himself toward the same spot, hitting it over and over, and Max’s flow of curses becomes more and more urgent with each thrust. 

 

“Dylan – fuck – I’m close,” Max moans desperately. Dylan buries his face into Max’s neck and reaches a hand to pump at Max’s dick. He sucks at the pulse point on Max’s neck in a way that will definitely leave a mark, quickening his pace, jerking roughly. 

 

“Please, _shit, please_ ,” Max begs, not quite sure what he’s asking for. A heat coils in his lower stomach, threatening to bubble over. Dylan bites down on his neck with a growl, and Max’s spine stiffens, a strangled shout leaving his throat as ecstasy spills through him. 

 

Max rides it out as Dylan continues to pound him, leaving him writhing on the bed as Dylan’s thrusts become less rhythmic and more disjointed, his hips snapping forward sporadically. 

 

“Max,” Dylan grinds out through clenched teeth, before he cuts himself off with a long groan. He pulls out in time to spill all over Max’s stomach with an extended moan, before drops his head, eyes fluttering shut, spent.

 

The pair stay in silence for a long moment, the only sounds the hushed pants coming from both men. After a while, Dylan shuffles off his knees and flops down beside Max, sinking into the mattress.

 

“I’ve been missing out,” Max says with a quiet puff of laughter. 

 

“I dare say I have too,” Dylan says.

 

“How do you mean?” Max asks.

 

“All this time and I’ve never slept with you,” Dylan confirms.

 

“Yeah, well, I doubt Zoe would have approved,” Max rolls onto his side before sitting up, stretching a little. “Are you going to help me get cleaned up?” 

 

Dylan shakes his head, sleep beckoning. “You’re the young one. Sort yourself out.”


End file.
